


And I Wake To Find That You're Not There

by Anon6285_omo (Anonymous6285)



Series: Beatles Omorashi [44]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Pajamas & Sleepwear, Panic Attacks, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anon6285_omo
Summary: George has a bad nightmare about Ringo and wakes up to find that he's not there.-Title from a song that I definitely know, but it's not coming to my mind, and it's driving me crazy aaaaUpdate: It's "sorry seems to be the hardest word," by Elton, I believe
Relationships: George Harrison & Ringo Starr
Series: Beatles Omorashi [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612729
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	And I Wake To Find That You're Not There

George shot up in his bed, his breath coming out in a desperate, ragged rhythm. He didn’t know what exactly had happened in his dream, but it must have scared him pretty bad, because Ringo was sitting next to him, staring with wide eyes. 

“Georgie?” he whispered, and the guitarist just grabbed onto him for dear life in some sort of attempt to calm how upset he looked. “God, are you okay? You were screaming, love.” He opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out. “No, no, save your voice. You’ll need it for tonight.”

George pulled away from the drummer and sighed, glad that everything seemed to be okay.

“Why don’t we get some brekkie, yeah?” He nodded. “Great. Let’s get you up, then.” As Ringo tried to get up from the bed, though, his feet became tangled up in the sheets, and he fell face first off of the bed.

“Richie!” George shouted, leaning over to see if he was okay. What he was met with instead was a bloodied face, eyes wide open. His heart sped up. Surely the fall couldn’t have been that bad. “Richie, are you okay?” There was no answer, and so he leaned closer to the side of the bed, seeing that the blood had started to run down the man’s face and pool on the floor. “Oh, my god!!” 

Before he even knew what had happened, his world went black. 

-

When he awoke again, he was still in bed, facing the door. His heart was beating fast, so he only assumed it had to have been a nightmare, right? He rolled over to see Ringo next to him, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t… 

George didn’t have the guts to look over the side of the bed to see if he was there, his world already slowing down around him. A feeling of dread swept over him as he got up and started towards the door. Just as it opened and Paul walked in. 

“No, John!” he called into the hall. Did he know about what happened to Ringo? “Yeah, I’m taking care of it!” God, he did, didn’t he? Had he been the one that killed him? Was he even dead?

All of his thoughts took over the reason in his brain, and he started to back up.

“Geo? You okay? We thought we heard you screaming.” He shook his head, continuing to step backwards until Paul finally realised what he was doing and stopped where he was. “George, what’s wrong…?”

“R-Richie…” was all he managed to say, and Paul tilted his head.

“W-what? Hey, John! Can you come here a second?” No. If John walked in that door, he knew he was going to lose whatever hope he had of staying calm. “Johnny!” He opened up his mouth, but instead of words came a sob.

“What’s the matter?” John said as he rounded the corner and saw the state that George was in. “God, what happened?”

“I don’t know…”

George sobbed again, running into the wall behind him and immediately falling down until his knees hit his chin. John and Paul continued to talk, and he mumbled something out of his mouth, but he didn’t know what it was.

And then, much to his own humiliation, he felt something warm beneath him. Something really warm. Paul shouted something at him, but he was so focused on the worst possible situation here to even notice. 

Paul had killed Ringo, and he was next. John had to have been the backup to help because of how stubborn he was. His face burned red, and he closed his eyes, mumbling something a bit louder.

“P-please, where’s R-Richie? W-where’s Richie? I need Rich--” He sobbed again, and John whispered something to the bassist, to which he looked a little closer at where George was sitting, and his face softened. They said a few more things, and the worst of whatever had freaked George out so bad had passed.

He caught his breath, and closed his eyes. “Love, I’m going to go get Richie, okay?” Paul said, slipping out of the door. John sat down a few feets from George.

“Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare, or something?” George didn’t respond, now feeling the way his pyjama pants stuck to his bum. And as he moved his feet a bit, he felt the sticky puddle he was sitting in. It took a few seconds for him to realise what it really was. John saw the realisation dawn on him. “Erm, it’s alright.”

George still didn’t say anything until Paul walked back in, Ringo trailing behind him, completely naked and wrapped in a towel. “What’s going on, Georgie? Paul said you needed me?”

The guitarist took a shaky breath, hiding his face when he saw that Ringo still had shampoo in his hair. “S-sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry, you can finish your shower.”

“Love, no… are you okay?” George just continued to cry, and Ringo knelt down in front of him, not even noticing the puddle. “What happened?” He mumbled something inaudible. “What was that?”

“N-nightmare. I thought you… I’m sorry. That was dumb of me to believe you actually-- god, I’m so sorry.” Ringo gently touched his arm to feel that it was trembling.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He breathed in through his nose, and he got a whiff of something like urine, but he knew that even if it was what he thought it was, George definitely didn’t want him just pointing it out. “Do you want to get on up?”

He shook his head. “I’m… I’m gross.” He looked down at his crotch, and Ringo followed his gaze briefly. George could feel that it was already nearly cold, and it was itchy, too.

“It’s okay, love. Not your fault.” Then he looked back at the other two Beatles. “Could you two leave for a minute? I’m gonna help him clean up a bit.” John and Paul nodded, shared a glance, and then walked out of the room, prompting George to sob again.

“I’m sorry, Richie. I can deal with it. Why don’t you go finish your shower?” He sniffled, but Ringo was already helping him to stand up. 

“Nonsense, love. Of course I’ll help you out.” He pulled his towel off of his waist and bent down to start cleaning the puddle. “Why don’t you go wash up your legs and get changed into some clothes, yeah? I can take care of your pyjamas.”

“Richie--”

“Really, George. It’s not your fault. Just go clean yourself up. I promise you it’s no trouble.” George sighed shakily and walked out the door, ignoring the glances he got from John and Paul. They walked back into the room to see a naked Ringo wiping up the puddle with his bath towel. 

“Is he alright?” Paul asked softly.

“What the fuck happened?” John said a bit more roughly. But Ringo just kept on cleaning up the floor.

“Could one of you bring me some sort of cleaner for this floor? I don’t know where that would be.”

“Maybe the kitchen,” Paul said and ran off to find it. John stayed.

“I don’t think he wants to talk about this again, so maybe let’s just forget about it, okay?” John nodded. “Sorry if he scared either of you much. I didn’t know he was having a nightmare when I got up to shower. He seemed fine.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Richie. And it wasn’t his, either.”

“I know… I just feel bad. If I had been there when he woke up, he would’ve been fine.”

“He’s still fine. He just had a bit of a scare and… an accident, it seems. But nothing that can’t be cleaned up, yeah?” Ringo nodded. “How about you go get dressed, then?” 

John chuckled as he glanced down at Ringo’s bare crotch. The drummer blushed and covered himself. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll have to get this shampoo out of my hair first, though.” He patted the top of his head and felt and heard the way the bubbles squished together.

“Yeah, good idea.” He huffed, standing up all the way, and John averted his gaze. “I’ll check on George, then. See how he’s doing.” Ringo left the room after leaving the towel to John, and he ran into George coming back to his room to change.

“I d-didn’t know where to put my clothes. Th-they’re next t-to the tub.” 

“Alright. I’ll take them down to the washing machines. Just don’t worry about it, okay? And John is finishing up with the puddle. He won’t mention anything about what happened, though.”

George smiled and left the bathroom.

-

That night, George and Ringo shared a room again, and he sat awake in the bed as Ringo started to drift off to sleep. He didn’t want to have another horrible nightmare like he did the night before.

But Ringo rolled over and wrapped an arm around him. “Geo? Why are you still awake. I thought you were tired.” He hummed nervously. “Is it because of that nightmare, love?” His voice was sleepy.

“Richie, I’m fine. Just not very tired.”

Ringo sighed. “Now, I know that’s a lie, yeah? Look, I promise I won’t leave until I know you’re awake, okay? And if I do, I’ll make sure to let you know. I don’t like it when you’re scared, Georgie.”

The guitarist sighed. “Alright.” And then he snuggled up next to Ringo. “Thanks, Richie. You’re really amazing, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “But you’re pretty amazing, too, you know.” George just giggled. “Goodnight, love.”

“Night. I love you,” he whispered.

“You… what?”

His heart stopped when he realised what he’d said. “J-just as a friend, you know? Platonically…”

“Ah. Well, I love you, too, George.” The younger man curled up into him and smiled to himself.


End file.
